Now the seeds are hungry for knowledge
And that the times is of the essence
Spread the roots like it is your tract of land
And sip the juice from the sand
This is the nation shaped by the angels
Governed by demons
It is your right to pick which side you are
Incite the dream of the fatherland
Bear grudge to the ambitious visions of the sun
For the wet season has not yet come
Diminish pleasure and decree the ego
Or let all virgins, mothers
And all children come to woe
Conscience is God's voice
Let it be heard above mind's noise
Thou shalt not spoil thy own kind
For everything you gain will go to vain
Live life like it is your end
Or go with the impassive world's wind
Hear the confessions of sin
And evaluate yourself
If you have committed the same
You are the seeds
That grow on the filthy pot of soil
Soon you will grow
And your leaves will give shade
But how can a plant give shade?
Ah! You've grown into a tree
And broke the pot of soil
You've set your limits
And proved yourself worthy
"Bravo!", should I say?
And now that you are a tree
Will you be a good tree?
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